


The Nightmare

by Anonymous



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “NO!!”The cry catapulted Paul into wakefulness and he sat up, heart pounding in his chest.
Relationships: Christopher Foyle/Paul Milner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/gifts), [elizajane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/gifts), [Kirvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirvin/gifts).



> This story occurred to me after once again re-reading the wonderful "Welcoming Silences" series by Crowgirl, elizajane and Kirvin and I hope they will forgive me for playing in their sandbox.

“NO!!”

The cry catapulted Paul into wakefulness and he sat up, heart pounding in his chest.

“No! God no, please…not Andrew…”

It wasn’t the first one of Christopher’s nightmares he’d witnessed but the pain in his voice broke Paul’s heart and he immediately switched on the bedside lamp, blinking in the sudden brightness as he turned to look at Foyle.

His face was contoured, tears streaking down his cheeks and Paul swallowed hard, “Christopher. Christopher wake up” 

But Foyle didn’t wake, tossing his head on the pillow as he argued with someone, seemingly from Coastal Command, “Missing…how the hell do you lose a bloody spitfire?!”

“Christopher!” 

Thankfully that did the trick and Foyle sat up, panting as if he’s just run a race, “Andrew!”

“He’s alright Christopher”

Foyle’s head whipped around and for a long moment he stared uncomprehendingly at him and then he turned and slowly took in the rest of the room before turning back to Paul and laying a trembling hand on his cheek, “Paul?”

Paul reached up and covered Foyle’s hand with his own, his heart aching at the pain in Christopher’s eyes, “Yes, it was a nightmare Christopher, just a nightmare”

For several heartbeats Christopher stared at him and then his face crumpled and he leant forward, hiding his face in Paul’s neck, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

He had never seen Foyle cry before and for a moment that shocked him so much that he sat there like a child playing statues and then his brain kicked in again and he drew Christopher more firmly into his arms, one hand running gently through the sweat soaked curls at the base of his neck, “Shh it was just a dream…he’s alright…”

“I can’t lose him Paul…I can’t…”

The pain in his voice made Paul shudder. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered what might happen if, god forbid, Andrew was killed for everyone knew the casualty rates in the coastal squadrons were appalling. 

Christopher rarely spoke of it but even when they were nothing more than colleagues Paul had seen the way he’d stiffen each time he got a telegram; immediately after the case involving Andrew’s friend he’d actually seen Foyle’s hands shake as he tried to open one. He’d noticed how he hesitated when his telephone rang, eyes lingering over the small photograph of Andrew that he had on his desk as his hand rested on the receiver.

Since moving in Paul had witnessed how he relaxed when he finally got a letter from his son only to watch the tension build again as they listened to the evening news. He hardly knew Andrew, he’d only met him twice after all, but the more time he and Christopher spent together the more tidbits of information he collected. 

He knew for example that Andrew had never really taken to fishing, preferring rugby, football and cricket all of which he’d been quite good at. Most of all Paul knew how deeply Christopher loved his son, how much he worried about him and thus how terrifying this nightmare must have been.

“Shh” He said again, rubbing soft circles on Christopher’s back.

“Missing…they said he was missing…didn’t return…weren’t sure if…”

The words were mumbled against his neck and Paul pulled him closer still, “It was a nightmare Christopher, he’s alright”

“You can’t know that” Foyle argued hoarsely, “No one can…”

Paul sighed, “We don’t know he’s not either. It won’t help anything to assume the worst." Foyle didn’t answer but his tears were finally easing although he kept his face tucked against Paul’s neck while Paul continued his gentle ministrations.

“I can’t lose him Paul he’s all I have…all I have left of Rosalind…”

It was a testament to how deeply shaken Christopher was that he had mentioned Rosalind so offhandedly and it broke Paul’s heart to see him this frightened. “I know” he murmured, “But he’s a very good pilot Christopher and he’s made it this far…”

He knew it wasn’t much but at least it was the truth, not hopeful platitudes that they’re both too experienced to take any comfort from, “He said they were flying fewer night ops in his last letter remember? He’s probably fast asleep right now…”

He could feel Christopher relaxing by degrees so he kept talking until he finally drew back slightly, “I’m sorry”

Paul shook his head firmly, “You can’t help your nightmares any more than I can” He wiped away a lingering tear gently, “Are you feeling better?”

Foyle nodded, learning forward to kiss him gently, “Thanks to you”

Paul smiled and kissed him back, “Good. I’ll make us some tea, won’t be long” 

The tea helped to steady both their nerves but Paul couldn’t help noticing that Christopher curled closer when they settled back down to try and get a few more hours of sleep and he could only pray that Andrew would survive the war because he wasn’t sure he would be enough to keep Christopher afloat if he lost his son.


	2. Chapter 2

Foyle blinked awake, not entirely sure what had woken him. His confusion was short lived; Paul was lying beside him, rigid with tension, head tossing side to side clearly caught in a nightmare. Foyle winced sympathetically, flicking on the light with a long arm, and pushing himself up on an elbow before laying a careful hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Paul?”

“Get down. God man keep you’re head down!”

Foyle’s chest ached at the restrained panic in Paul’s voice and he tightened his grip slightly, “Paul, wake up”

Paul turned towards him, but any hope that he had woken was immediately extinguished by the look in his eyes, and the almost painful grip he took of Foyle’s shoulders, “Listen to me, I can’t get out, my leg’s too badly injured but if you keep your head you can. I’ll give you some cover and then you run like hell alright?”

“Paul” Foyle’s voice was little more than a whisper and he drew a quick breath, “Paul, it’s Christopher. We’re in Hastings and you need to wake up”

Paul stared at him, his grip suddenly tightening as he groaned softly and Foyle wished he knew if the pain was imagined or real. “Please Paul…”

There was a moment of heavy silence and then Paul took a gasping breath, “Christopher?”

Foyle’s shoulders slumped with relief; chin dipping briefly to his chest, “Yes, it was a nightmare…” He trailed off because Paul’s grip hadn’t eased at all, his body still strung with tension, “Paul, is your leg…?”

“Hurts” Paul ground out, another groan escaping as he squeezed his eyes shut and Foyle felt his heart rate increase even as he forced himself to keep calm. 

“Alright, I’ll just have a look shall I?” Paul nodded but didn’t relax his grip and Foyle brushed a gentle hand down his arm, “Paul, I’ll need to sit up…”

Paul blinked at him in confusion and then his eyes widened, and he let go as if he’d been burned, “Sorry! I didn’t…I mean I…”

Foyle frowned, unable to prevent himself from directing some decidedly uncharitable thoughts towards Jane; god only knew how she must have reacted for Paul to behave like this. “Paul stop” Paul blinked at him, eyes wide and Foyle rubbed his arm gently, “You’ve done nothing wrong Paul, let me help?”

Paul nodded and Foyle pushed himself upright, taking a deep breath before he pushed down the covers and looked at Paul’s leg. The muscles looked painful tight and he glanced up at Paul’s face just in time to see it contort with pain. 

Wincing himself Foyle laid a gentle hand on Paul’s hip, “Looks like a cramp, may I…?

Paul nodded biting hard on his lower lip and Foyle took another deep breath before moving down the bed and carefully setting to work on the tense muscles. It took several minutes but finally they began to ease and Paul gave a sigh of relief and relaxed back against his pillow.

Foyle kept up the massage for several minutes and then asked carefully, “Do you want to tell me?”

There was a long silence and Foyle continued moving his hands soothingly up and down what remained of Paul’s leg as he waited. “I was there again…” Paul said at last, he took a deep breath, letting it out with deliberate slowness. “My leg…I…”

His voice was suddenly shaky; his eyes glassy with tears and Foyle’s heart ached at the sight. “I was so sure Christopher…sure I’d die…”

A few tears slipped down his cheek and Foyle hastily moved to gather him into his arms, murmuring soothing nonsense into his hair so softly that Paul felt more than heard the words as he sobbed, hands fisted in Christopher’s pyjamas.

Finally the crying eased but Paul didn’t raise his head and Foyle brushed a gentle kiss to his head, “Alright?”

Paul nodded and reluctantly pushed himself into a sitting position, “Yes, sorry…”

“Paul” 

Paul blinked and Foyle laid a gentle hand on his cheek, “Do you really think you need to apologize for this?”

“I…”

“Went through hell, it leaves scars Paul, I know” As he spoke Foyle brought Paul’s hand to rest against his side and the scar that a bayonet had left there.

Paul swallowed hard, “Yes, of course, I just….”

His voice was rough and Foyle kissed him gently, “I know” They stayed there, just breathing in the silence for several minutes and then Foyle kissed him again, “I’ll fetch us some tea”

When he came back up it was with two cups of tea and a hot water bottle for Paul’s leg and Paul had to blink back tears again but for a completely different reason.


End file.
